


Intermezzo

by Hope



Category: Torchwood
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi, PWP, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-05-19
Updated: 2009-05-19
Packaged: 2017-10-02 09:51:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hope/pseuds/Hope
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ianto catches Jack in a fantasy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Intermezzo

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the latest [](http:)porn battle using the "solo sex" prompt (though [](http:)originally [](http:)posted [](http:)anon.) Unbetaed.

They could almost be related, Jack thinks--dark heads almost of a level when they're both kneeling at his feet, upturned faces and wide, rapt eyes. Brother and sister, _yes_, the thought of it sends another stab of lust up through Jack's body and down as well, making his toes curl. He squeezes his cock gently, tightening the muscles of his thighs and relaxing them again, drawing his knees up and letting his legs fall a little further apart, to free a tent of empty space below the sheet and give himself more room.

They wouldn't be able to take their eyes off his cock, once Jack brought it to their attention, held it _right there_, close enough for the breath puffing out of their open mouths to caress it. He'd pull his foreskin back, gently, revealing the swollen red head to them (exposed to the cool air now he wants to touch it, but waits); shiny and wet, he'd rub it against Gwen's helpfully pouting lips, slicking them with his precome (he strokes his thumb over the head of his cock--softly, softly--trying to replicate the yielding tenderness of her mouth but revelling in the wet that clings to his skin all the same).

One hand curled around his cock, one hand at the back of Ianto's neck; Jack would guide Ianto forward but Ianto would need little encouragement, eyes half-lidded and colour high in his cheeks, he'd lean forward to kiss the precome from Gwen's lips. A filthy kiss, more tongue outside their mouths than in, open and on display for him and their faces tilted just so he could slide his cock into it. (Jack curls two of his fingers and his thumb around the base of his cock, pressing the heel of his hand firmly against his pubic bone then pushing forward against it anyway, imagining--)

Brother and sister, maybe even _twins_, with their red mouths striving for each other around his cock, wetting the tight, hot skin of it, tongues lapping against it or darting over and under it, seeking each other out. Ianto reaching up to hold Jack's cock instead, his grasp tight like he's doing it more to anchor himself than please Jack, though that thought is pleasing in itself. It would free Jack's hands to cradle both their heads, lightly, enough to hold them in place but be able to feel them move as well. (Jack reaches down to cup his balls in his free hand, squeeze and roll them between his fingers and try not to thrust as if his cock's not just waving in the air; then he gentles the touch to faint strokes; Gwen's fingers would be cooler, more delicate than his.)

Gwen would make noise, Jack's sure of it, probably involuntary little verbalisations of pleasure interspersing the deliciously wet sounds of their mouths savouring Jack's cock. Ianto would be huffing hard out through his nose, striving for oxygen to feed his lust-addled brain and not willing to free his mouth to do so. Gwen's noise would turn to a whimper, then, because Ianto would be touching her as well--always a multitasker to a ridiculous degree (Jack's arse clenches distractingly around nothing)--hand on Gwen's breast, thumb pressing her nipple in, rubbing a generous pinch of flesh between thumb and knuckle.

Gwen's tits, yes, gloriously bare or maybe not quite--maybe, maybe pushed up and spilling over the bronzed leather brassiere that does little else but strap around the bottom of her breasts and force them up, overflowing into Ianto's hands. And Gwen, tilting her head back, mouth red and shiny and open when she moans, leaving Jack's cock free for Ianto's hand to tighten around it, stroke up and down (Jack rocks his hips up into his sliding grip). Gwen rising up then, pushing her chest out and cupping her own breast, tugging it forward and presenting it for Ianto to rub the tip of Jack's cock against the hard nipple--

Jack can't help but moan aloud himself, feeling the pulse of precome and pressing his thumb against the dripping slit of his cock. He rubs back and forth and the sensations suddenly ratchet up in intensity to the extent that he's drawn right out of the fantasy, just a mindless animal for a moment as he pistons his hips up helplessly, bed creaking beneath him.

The tension of the sheet pulled across his knees slackens as Ianto rolls over next to him, and Jack swears as the cotton brushes the tip of his cock like silk and sandpaper; he curls his fist over it protectively.

Ianto's breath is humid and unavoidably present against the cap of Jack's shoulder. Jack flexes his bicep reflexively and feels the sweat in his underarms tug and prickle the skin there.

"Jack," Ianto mumbles. "What--" And Jack can feel the sudden tightening of the body pressed against his side as Ianto comes awake more fully. The muscles on Jack's belly snap taut as Ianto trails his hand down Jack's flank; then Ianto's fingers are wrapping around Jack's on his cock, blood slow from sleep so touch a little cooler where it settles in the gaps between Jack's fingers.

Jack moves his hand again, more deliberate and considered this time, guiding Ianto through the weight and measure of his cock as if getting him up to speed. Ianto groans, uninhibited in lethargy, and Jack feels the beginnings of Ianto's own erection pressed against his side with a flex of Ianto's hips. Ianto keeps the movement of their hands going even when Jack stops; a slow, steady wanking that Jack complements with a rhythmic tugging on his balls.

"What're you thinking about?" Ianto mumbles against his skin.

Jack sniggers and moans at the same time, fantasy and reality colliding viscerally in the sudden jolt of recollection--fantasy Ianto with the dedication of his eager, red mouth; and the Ianto here, now, hot skin pressed all against Jack's side and arm heavy across Jack's belly, faint funk of his sleepy breath puffing over Jack's chin.

"You and Gwen," Jack says breathlessly, squeezing his eyes shut and thinking of Ianto's fingers kneading and pulling at Gwen's tits. "Sucking. Licking me." _Worshipping_, more like, their eyes drunk with devotion, bodies open and so fucking willing. He squeezes Ianto's hand around his cock suggestively.

Ianto huffs out a laugh, then turns his head and nuzzles across Jack's bare, heaving chest until his teeth find a nipple. Jack's half-expecting him to keep going, drag his sleep-loose mouth down and close it over Jack's cock, claiming the shiny, wet head as his prize where Gwen can't in absentia.

But Ianto keeps talking instead. "Just sucking?" he asks in between licks to Jack's nipple, hard point of it rasping against the fine-grained texture of his tongue.

"Well," Jack prevaricates, utterly failing at nonchalant as Ianto drapes himself further over his chest, corrugated enamel of his closed teeth dragging over the tip of Jack's other nipple, held between Ianto's lips. "She does have amazing tits."

Ianto grins up a him, hair sleep-tousled and stubbly chin grinding into Jack's pec. He squeezes Jack's hand around his cock one last time in a distinct _keep going_ gesture before bringing his hand up to Jack's chest, fondling the nipple his mouth's just left, just an edge away from rough with the tender flesh; then he licks again, wetting his own fingers against Jack's chest.

"That's all?" he asks, then reaches down, nudging Jack's wrist out of the way as his hand moves past Jack's cock, past his balls to rub his two wet fingers against Jack's arsehole. "She'd let you fuck her, you know."

The tendons in Jack's groin cramp tightly and he splays his legs wider, giving Ianto more room to move. "Well, I hadn't got quite that far before you interrupted me."

"Interrupted?" Ianto's disbelieving smirk is positively wicked, as is the way his fingertips are still circling Jack's opening, as if testing the tightness of the muscle. It's yielding, still, as if hopeful for Ianto's cock again; Ianto's deliberately forceless contact now makes it contract, grasping at his fingertips. Jack pulls at his cock, a deep tremble of anticipation leaving his hips tilted at a more welcoming angle.

"Well what do you think, then," Jack says, striving for a verbal goading as well but just coming out breathless, not even a question.

"I think she'd let you fuck her however you liked," Ianto murmurs into his skin, fingers circling a little firmer now, and Jack pushes out, trying to encourage him inward. Ianto bites down, taking a mouthful of the tender flesh near Jack's underarm. "Perhaps even while I was fucking her." His fingers push into Jack's arse; coupled with his words, the move is abruptly immensely more suggestive than it was moments before.

The stretch isn't much with only two of Ianto's fingers, but the way he flexes them tumbles heat through Jack's core, making his cock throb, suddenly sweat-slick in his grip. A grip that he tightens because Ianto's words _are_ far too suggestive to ignore; fuck, _Gwen_, shuddering and moaning helplessly between them, Jack's cock in her arse and Ianto's in her cunt. Jack's hand on his own cock now is tight enough to mirror the pressure he imagines, and the solid heat of Ianto's cock through the barrier of Gwen's flesh so present that with his eyes closed he can almost believe it's happening.

Ianto's fingers curl, pressing relentlessly against Jack's prostate and he replicates the touch with his thumb, rubbing firmly against Jack's perineum, stimulating from inside and out and Jack feels like he's being shocked with a live wire, set alight even with the sudden flush of heat flashing through him. His cock, swollen and heavy in his fist, is like an iron bar taken out of a fire. When Ianto tightens his obscene grip on Jack's body Jack comes, eyes screwed shut and sucking in air through his clenched teeth as the input from body (Ianto's fingers in him, Ianto's body adhered with sweat to his side, Ianto's cock hot against his hip) and mind (Gwen writhing with their bodies crashing against her from either side, riding their cocks and yelling, clenching) juggernauts into the hot splash of his come onto his own fist, his belly.

Jack gasps helplessly as if the orgasm's forced all the oxygen out of his body as well, ears ringing and vision flashing white behind his closed eyelids, hand still cradling his cock as if protectively. Ianto withdraws his fingers, dried spit pulling at the sensitive flesh but only for a moment because Ianto's dragging his hands through the come on Jack's belly, scooping it up and smearing it against Jack's arsehole, pressing it in with his fingers. Jack moans, tries to open his eyes; the ceiling reels above him.

"Yeah?" Ianto rasps, bed creaking, its movement rocking Jack's limp body as Ianto kneels around.

Jack nods and tips his head back, unable to stop a lazy, appreciative grin as Ianto teases the head of his cock against Jack's arsehole before pushing into its clutching heat again. Delicious, filthy Ianto with spit and lube and come gliding his cock against the tender ring of Jack's arse, fucked raw already tonight but Jack's not about to turn down a spot of post-orgasmic, languorous missionary.

**Author's Note:**

> http://hope.dreamwidth.org/1501668.html


End file.
